


enchanted

by krashlyntome (bestthreemonths)



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:46:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7458312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestthreemonths/pseuds/krashlyntome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ali doesn't believe in fate, and she's never been particularly lucky, but after winning a radio contest and having an enchanting encounter, she might believe in happy accidents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. this night is sparkling (don't you let it go)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Chance Encounter™

The first glass of wine is to unwind from a long day at work, Ali tells herself as she sits alone at the bar, crossing and uncrossing her legs. The second is because this theater is stingy with its pours, but when she takes her first sip of the third glass, she finally admits to herself that she's nervous and uncomfortable with the situation.

When she heard on the radio two weeks ago that the touring company of her favorite musical, If/Then, was coming into town and they were giving away two tickets, she didn't think twice before calling.

She probably should have, though, because once she gets past the high of winning, she realizes she doesn't have anyone to accompany her. It's a Tuesday night, so most of her friends and coworkers will be too tired to see some random musical they've probably never heard of anyway.

She could have gotten Kyle to come, but he's out of town on location for some photoshoot for which he's styling a bunch of pop stars’ hair, so he “regretfully” declined. She got so desperate she almost posted a notice on Facebook for any local acquaintances who wanted to join, but she finally decided that would be more awkward than going alone. 

She spent the whole day coming up with excuses to not go, from the poor weather forecast (rain, rain, and more rain) to her exhaustion from work before realizing she’d regret it forever if she didn't take such a great opportunity. She just hadn't considered how weird she’d feel at a theater all by herself.

Maybe it's less the theater and more the bar, she considers. Sitting at a bar alone will always make her feel like the star of a romantic comedy who just got stood up for a blind date minus the handsome knight in shining armor to save her.

With that in mind (and the lights flashing, indicating that people should make their way to their seats), she closes out her tab and ventures inside to find her seat. It's easy enough, as she has two seats smack dab in the middle of the floor, row K, seats 11 and 12.

She figures she’ll decide which one she’ll actually use when she sees her neighbors, and it ends up being an easy choice. There's nobody in 10, but 13 houses a man crunching loudly on pork rinds, so 11 it is. She silently prays to herself that 10 stays empty so she can pretend she's completely alone.

It doesn't, of course, and she tries to hide her audible sigh when the woman shuffles down the row, whispering “sorry” and “excuse me.” Ali smiles tightly, tucking her legs under her seat as if that will make a difference, but the woman is able to slide by easily anyway, taking her spot next to Ali and returning her own genuine smile.

Ali could have done worse for a neighbor, she decides. She looks and smells like she just showered, which is always a plus, but she smells better than just soap and water, leading Ali to believe she put forth an effort with some fragrance. Ali almost wants to ask what it is, it’s so nice. She's dressed up for the show in a blazer over a plain white T-shirt that Ali can tell was probably $50 based on the material and straight-legged black jeans. She wears a simple gold chain and an eyeroll-worthy fedora hat for accessories, but she pulls it off.

“Did I miss anything?” she whispers jokingly even though the house lights are still on and people are milling about.

“Oh yeah, we’re about to start Act II,” Ali jokes back.

“You better make sure your friend gets back in time,” the woman says, raising an eyebrow at the empty seat beside Ali.

Ali blushes slightly, embarrassed about being alone despite the fact that this woman clearly is as well. “No friend,” she says. “I mean, I have friends! Just… not here.”

“Mm, likely story,” the woman says with a smirk. “Well, I can be your friend for the evening. Ashlyn.”

“Ali,” she replies, extending a hand to shake, which Ashlyn takes after taking her hat off.

“Have you seen this before?”

“Only a few times,” Ali shrugs. “But I'm obsessed with the story and music. How about you?”

“Never seen it,” Ashlyn says, and Ali almost gasps. “Am I missing out that much?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Ali says. “So why are you here then?”

“My ex is in the ensemble.” Ashlyn flips open her program to a page she already bookmarked. She points to a grainy black-and-white photo of a gorgeous woman whose previous credits include Mimi in Rent and Maria in West Side Story.

“Does she know you're here?” Ali laughs, trying to imagine a world in which she wants to be involved in any of her exes’ lives.

“Who do you think got me the ticket?”

“Very nice,” Ali nods as the lights go down and Ashlyn closes her program to stash it under her seat. “I'll be watching for her.”

As it turns out, it’s hard not to spot her right off the bat, as they’re close enough that Ali doesn’t even have to squint to see her eyes. She’s gorgeous, all dark hair and caramel skin, and she finds her mind drifting to whether she thinks Ashlyn has a type, and if so, would Ali fit into it?

She catches herself before she lets herself have these thoughts while staring at Ashlyn, who is captivated by the performance, though Ali makes sure she’s only watching out of the corner of her eye. When the first act ends and and house lights come back on, Ashlyn turns to her, eyes wide.

“That was amazing!” Ashlyn breathes. “She was really good, right? That wasn’t just me?”

“She was wonderful,” Ali laughs. “How do you like the rest of it?”

“I’m having trouble following, to be honest,” Ashlyn confesses.

Ali smiles, having expected as much. She explains, careful not to give anything away that hasn’t happened yet, and Ashlyn nods slowly, murmuring every now and then when something clicks.

“You really like this play, don’t you?”

“Love,” Ali says, and Ashlyn grins.

“I can tell,” she says. “I love watching people talk about what they’re passionate about.”

Ali blushes, trying to think of any other way to steer the conversation. “So,” she says, looking around before her eyes land on the program peeking out from below Ashlyn’s seat. “You’re a lesbian.” Her eyes widen as soon as she says it, and her tongue feels thick in her mouth from the wine.

Ashlyn looks surprised, but she smiles and laughs. “Maybe less passionate and more drunk, then,” she realizes. “I thought the tint to your lips was just your lipstick, but I take it you’re a red girl.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ali rushes to say.

“Stop,” Ashlyn laughs. “I’m a lesbian, yes. Have you ever met one of us before?”

“Met one?” Ali says before she can stop herself. “I’ve slept with plenty myself.”

Ashlyn’s eyes go wide, but in amusement more than shock. “And yet you aren’t one?”

“I don’t label myself.” The words tumble out of Ali’s mouth, but she figures there’s no point in stopping now.

“Fair enough,” Ashlyn says, deciding it’s best to leave it at that. “So what brings you here all by your lonesome?”

Ali explains the radio contest and everything leading up to her final decision to just go for it, and Ashlyn watches as she speaks, nodding and taking everything in like it’s the most interesting story she’s heard all week.

“Independent,” Ashlyn says when she’s done. “Very cool. What do you do?”

“I’m in HR for a pharmaceutical company,” Ali says. “I actually really like it, but it’s a lot of work some people might find tedious. I’m just slightly Type A. How about you?”

“I’m O-Negative,” Ashlyn jokes. “How much do you know about soccer?”

“More than I want to,” Ali admits, rolling her eyes. “My dad’s obsessed, so he was coaching me and my brother from when we could walk. He wanted me to be on the national team, but I stopped playing when I got to high school because I wanted to be a cheerleader.”

“Well, I'm on that team,” Ashlyn laughs. “But I'm intrigued about this cheerleader venture.”

“Oh I was amazing,” Ali says. “My toe touches were out of this world. But wait--you play soccer? Nationally? Didn't they just win that thing?”

“The World Cup?” Ashlyn suggests. “Yeah, we won.”

“Shit,” Ali breathes. “That's way more interesting than accounts payable.”

“Sometimes I think it would be kind of nice to have that kind of stability and routine,” Ashlyn admits. “I don't think I could work a desk job, though.”

“It's not for the faint of heart.” The lights in the house go down, signifying the start of the second act, and Ali leans over. “Are you a crier?” she whispers.

“Oh God,” Ashlyn says. “Why?”

Ali reaches into her purse and pulls out a package of Kleenex, setting it on the armrest between them. “Just in case.”

No matter how many times Ali sees the show, it still emotionally wrecks her, but she manages to keep it to one tissue, gently dabbing her eyes and nose.

Ashlyn, on the other hand, starts crying at the part Ali anticipates she will and doesn't stop till the curtain call, sometimes sniffling quietly and other times sobbing her eyes out till she's depleted the entire package.

“Oh my God, I'm so sorry,” she says when she notices. “I'll buy you more tissues. Why didn't you warn me that would be absolutely awful?”

“It's more organic that way,” Ali laughs. “You poor thing.”

“It was beautiful,” Ashlyn says. “I can't believe I know someone who does that every single day. How cool?”

“Very cool,” Ali agrees, gathering her things to stand. “It was nice meeting you, Ashlyn. Thanks for keeping me company.”

“Wait!” Ashlyn says, grabbing Ali’s wrist gently. “I was going to go meet Denise and go for a quick drink. Please come.”

Her voice is so earnest that Ali forgets the time it'll take her to get home and get ready for bed. Even at this point she’ll probably get far less than her ideal eight hours, but she can't bring herself to say no. “Yeah, okay,” she agrees. “Just one drink, though.”

The lobby is crowded when they get out there, all the old people who attend Tuesday night showings waiting for their rides because it's storming hard outside.

“Man, it's really coming down,” Ali says, cringing as she realizes she's now one of those people who comments on the weather.

“Denise!” Ashlyn exclaims, apparently not noticing Ali’s complete lack of creativity as she tracks down her ex and walks up to her for a hug that's more friendly than intimate. “Meet my friend Ali.”

“Ali!” Denise says, her voice taking on Ashlyn’s excitement. “I've heard so much about you!”

Ali laughs, and Ashlyn rolls her eyes. “Good etiquette, babe, but we literally just met so you've already outed yourself as a liar.”

“Oops,” Denise says, her cheeks gathering color.

“When can you get out of here for a drink?” Ashlyn asks.

“Don't kill me,” Denise says, cringing. “My parents are here and they're taking me to dinner.”

Ashlyn groans.

“We still have six more shows here!” Denise says. “Tuesdays are just the easiest for tickets. Later this week? Rain check?” She smiles at her own joke, and Ashlyn smiles back.

“Only because I love you,” she says. “Have fun with your parents. Send them my love.”

Denise almost snorts as she leans in for a cheek kiss. “Oh, you bet.”

When they've said their goodbyes and she's disappeared through the crowd to find her parents, Ashlyn turns back to Ali. “Still up for a drink?”

“Sure,” Ali says slowly, looking outside where the wind and rain hasn't let up.

“Oh, come on, a little rain can't stop us,” Ashlyn says just as a bolt of lightning flashes, followed immediately by a loud crack of thunder that makes Ali jump. “Jesus, what the hell is going on?”

Ali's already scrolling through her phone for updates. “Hurricane,” she says. Neither one is fazed considering they're in Florida, where hurricanes are par for the course, like old people clogging the left lane and people getting arrested for doing things that should be in Ripley’s Believe it or Not. “Shit! Shit shit shit.”

“What?” Ashlyn asks.

“They closed the turnpike because of flooding.”

“They can do that?” Ashlyn asks incredulously.

“I guess!” Ali exclaims, running a hand through her hair. “I don't know how I'm going to get home.”

“Well, it would be dangerous to drive anyway,” Ashlyn says. “There are plenty of hotels around here, it's probably best to bunker down for the night.”

“They're all so expensive though,” Ali mutters under her breath, racking her brain for a Holiday Inn Express nearby.

“Not if we split,” Ashlyn offers, nice enough not to mention that her salary as an international soccer star is probably far better than Ali’s. “If there are any Marriotts I can probably call my employer and work out a deal anyway,” she says with a wink. She sees Ali's hesitation and smiles softly. “Come on, it's going to get worse before it clears, and you don't know how long it'll take for the roads to open back up. It's either a warm hotel room with clean sheets and room service with some stranger you just met or this stuffy lobby with pretzels and candy and a ton of old people.”

Ali looks around, knowing her answer somewhere deep down before she actually decides it for herself. “Fine,” she concedes. “I'll follow your lead.”

She literally does just that, slipping off her heels to hold them and sprinting after Ashlyn through the rain till they finally reach the first hotel they see. It's only a block away, but it feels like miles in the downpour.

The hotel is completely booked, the woman at the front desk says, and Ali groans, knowing the plan was too good to be true. Chances are, all the hotels in the vicinity are dealing with the same sudden rush, and if it isn't one stuffy lobby they're stuck in for the night, it'll be another.

That is, until Ashlyn manages to sweet talk the clerk into “double checking,” at which time she miraculously “discovers” an extra room on the top floor.

“They have to hold those rooms for people they think are VIPs,” Ashlyn tells Ali as they walk to the elevator. “Apparently I didn't quite fit the bill at first.”

“But now?”

“I have my ways,” Ashlyn says, smirking. “The name rang a bell even though my face didn't.”

“So people really like soccer that much?” Ali asks, crinkling her nose. “I never really got the appeal.”

“You're killing me,” Ashlyn groans. 

“I know,” Ali says. “My dad can’t stand it.”

“For what it’s worth, I never got the appeal of musicals before Denise, so maybe I could change your mind.”

“Maybe,” Ali muses, stepping off the elevator into a lush hallway, where their room is located.

“2020,” Ashlyn murmurs as they walk down the hall to the properly marked door. “Here we go.”

Ali gasps when they walk into the room, a lavish suite that probably costs more for a night than she makes in a week, but Ashlyn had insisted on using her credit card (“for points!”), so Ali may never know. She doesn’t even notice until the second time she looks around that there’s only one bed.

“Umm, Ashlyn?” Ali asks, and Ashlyn follows her eyes, groaning when she realizes her mistake.

“Oh, shit,” Ashlyn breathes. “I didn’t even think to specify. Don’t worry, I’ll call down and have them bring up a cot. You can take the bed.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ali says. “You paid for the room, I’m not letting you stay on a cot.” She smirks. “If you wanted to get me in bed, all you had to do was ask.”

“Really? That’s all I had to do?” Ashlyn jokes. “You’re a lot easier than I anticipated.”

“Hey!” Ali exclaims, feigning offense. “I’ll have you now I’m not an easy lay.”

“Of course you aren’t, just look at you,” Ashlyn agrees. “I’m sure you have suitors knocking down your door.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ali says sarcastically. “Drooling.”

“Do you want to shower?” Ashlyn asks, looking pointedly at Ali’s drenched clothes and her own.

“Oh,” Ali says as if she’s just realized she’s still soaking wet. “I don’t have a change.”

“Neither do I,” Ashlyn laughs. “I didn’t plan in case of a hurricane.”

“Right.” Ali blushes with embarrassment.

“Luckily, nice rooms come with nice bathrobes,” Ashlyn tells her, sliding open the closet to reveal two incredibly soft (and probably disgustingly expensive) white bathrobes. “We’ll let our clothes dry on the radiator. If the weather lets up early enough, I’ll make sure you’re up so you can get to your house for a change before work.”

Ali’s face softens at Ashlyn’s thoughtfulness, and she takes the robe Ashlyn holds out to her. “Thanks,” she says, pressing the material to her face and breathing it in. “I feel a little like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.”

“Never seen it,” Ashlyn admits.

“No way,” Ali gasps. “I’m finding it on Pay Per View, and we’re watching it. Who failed you so much in entering adulthood?”

“Where do I begin?” Ashlyn sighs dramatically. “Luckily we have all night for you to psychoanalyze me.”

“Good, my favorite.”

As Ali lets the shower heat up to near-scalding and washes her hair with the shampoo and conditioner that smells—and feels—like a hair salon, she feels a shudder upon realizing she’s really about to have a sleepover with a complete stranger. An attractive and funny and generous stranger, sure, but a stranger nonetheless.

Her initial reaction upon seeing the bed wasn’t even the obligatory awkwardness until she considered that Ashlyn may not have planned on sharing a bed. She actually felt weirdly excited about it. She hadn’t let herself consider sleeping with Ashlyn until she saw the bed, though she figures it may have been in the back of her mind from the moment she saw her.

Her excitement wasn’t even about the possibility of sex, either. Ashlyn is clearly still in love with her ex, at any rate. She can’t remember the last time she slept in a bed with someone other than Kyle after a night out, and even then, she can’t remember the last time she slept in a bed with a woman. Growing up, sleepovers had been her favorite. She only considered later that middle-to-high-school Ali hadn’t quite figured out her attraction to other girls, but still, there is something so pure and nice about platonic bed-sharing and staying up late whispering in bed with another girl.

She towels off her hair and wraps the bathrobe around her body, grabbing the lotion the hotel provides before exiting the bathroom so Ashlyn can shower. “Amazing water pressure,” she announces as she walks back out into the room, where Ashlyn’s already changed into her own bathrobe and queued up Pretty Woman on the TV.

“Excellent,” Ashlyn says, standing up to trade places. “Take whichever side of the bed you want, I made sure I didn’t get too comfortable. And don’t start without me!”

Ali smirks, her mind going to all the other things she could start without Ashlyn, but that’s probably the wine from earlier and her lightheadedness from the hot shower talking. Instead, she flips through the room service menu, only realizing how hungry she is when she spies a mouthwatering burger and fries combo. She gets so into the wine list she doesn’t even hear Ashlyn emerge from the bathroom.

“Find anything good?”

Ali jumps practically off the bed in surprise. “Um, I don’t know anything about wine except that I like the red stuff. Really anything that gets me tipsy.”

“Me neither,” Ashlyn laughs. “I’m more of a whiskey girl myself.”

“Whiskey it is, then,” Ali agrees, closing the menu. “You probably want something fancy, but I can’t think of anything better than a juicy hamburger.

“Whiskey and red wine to share and burgers and fries for us both?” Ashlyn asks, picking up the phone to dial. Ali nods. “I knew I liked you.”

Ali finds herself unsure of what she should do with her hands. The only belongings she has are her purse and its contents, like her phone (no charger), wallet, keys, and mints, and Ashlyn seems to have even less, till Ali gets a whiff of her. It’s the same scent as before, in the theater, and Ali realizes Ashlyn must have sprayed herself after her shower.

“What is that scent?” Ali asks, closing her eyes as if that’ll help her breathe it in more fully.

“Tom Ford,” Ashlyn answers. “Black Orchid. Do you like it?”

“Do you always wear perfume to bed?” Ali asks instead of replying, and it’s finally Ashlyn’s turn to blush.

“Only when I’m going to bed with a beautiful woman,” Ashlyn flirts.

“Ah, but I take it I wasn’t the woman you packed it for,” Ali says.

“Maybe not quite.”

“What’s the story there? With her?” Ali asks.

Ashlyn shrugs. “Childhood friends, but I was always the one who was supposedly bad news,” she laughs. “I think they were right thinking back on it. We secretly dated in high school, but when her parents found out, shit hit the fan. Needless to say, they approved of me even less afterward.”

“Damn,” Ali sighs. She had always considered her journey a bit easier because Kyle had done the hard part of opening her parents’ minds to being gay first. All she had to do was jump on the bandwagon when she started dating her first girlfriend in college. “So when did you get back together?”

“We never did,” Ashlyn laughs. “She went to New York for college and I went to North Carolina. We never dated again, but we’ve certainly… reconnected plenty of times over the years.”

“Now I’m even more honored you invited me to join for a drink,” Ali murmurs, wiggling her eyebrows.

“You know, I didn’t even consider that till you just said it, but I’m sure she’d be down.”

Ali laughs. “Um, no. I wouldn’t even know where to begin in that situation.”

“You’ve never had a threesome?” Ashlyn asks like she just found out Ali had never seen a dog or heard Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off.”

“Can’t say the opportunity has ever presented itself,” Ali says, her face heating up. She hears a knock at the door and breathes a heavy sigh of relief at being saved from the conversation as Ashlyn gets up to get it.

“Now that we have alcohol, I can’t wait to see what else you haven’t done,” Ashlyn teases as she rolls in the cart, having presumably tipped the room service person an outrageous amount. She pours the bottle of wine into a glass for Ali and mixes her whiskey with some ginger ale from the minibar. “Never Have I Ever till we’re drunk then the movie?”

Ali rolls her eyes. “Fine,” she says. “I’ll need a few bites of this burger to start, though.”

Ashlyn clinks her glass against Ali’s and bites into her burger, thinking about questions to ask as she chews. “Never have I ever slept with a guy.”

“Not fair,” Ali grumbles, sipping her wine. “Really? Never?”

“I knew who I was when I was 10,” Ashlyn shrugs. “Never had an interest. Never even kissed a guy.”

“Gold star,” Ali teases, and Ashlyn crinkles her nose. “Never have I ever had a threesome.”

“Boring, you already knew that,” Ashlyn sighs as she drinks. “Never have I ever slept with someone I just met.”

Ali takes a subtle sip as if Ashlyn won’t notice when she’s the only other person playing. “College!” she whines by way of explanation, and Ashlyn just nods.

“Like I said, easy,” Ashlyn teases. “Never have I ever… I really can’t think of anything I haven’t done.”

“That’s because you can only think of sexual things.”

“Well, duh, that’s the point of this game.”

“You’re worse than a 15-year-old boy trying to guess the color of my underwear or my bra size.”

“Trick question, you aren’t wearing any underwear,” Ashlyn says. “But I know they’re black because I hung them on the radiator.”

“Never have you ever seen Pretty Woman,” Ali says, desperate to change the subject away from her underwear. “Maybe we should change that.”

“I thought we weren’t watching till we got drunk,” Ashlyn pouts.

“Then I’ll fall asleep in the first ten minutes,” Ali protests. “How’s this? If we aren’t drunk enough or you don’t like the movie by 30 minutes in, I’ll give you a chance to change your earlier Never Have I Ever.”

“The one about sleeping with a guy?” Ashlyn asks, well aware that isn’t the one she was talking about.

“Nope,” Ali says. The truth is, she has to be on the right side of tipsy to even say something so suggestive, but Ashlyn doesn’t know that yet.

“I hate this movie,” Ashlyn announces after the opening credits.

“Shh,” Ali whispers, setting their empty plates back on the cart and pouring herself another glass of wine. “Do you need the light?”

“Do you?” Ashlyn asks, settling under the covers with her drink on the nightstand beside her.

Ali answers by crawling in beside her and flipping the switch on her side of the bed, the one closest to the window. She whispers her apologies when her foot brushes Ashlyn’s ankle, and there’s a bit of shuffling and movement before they both finally settle, a comfortable distance between their bodies.

Ashlyn’s illusion of not being interested in the movie dissolves about ten minutes in, and Ali laughs to herself at her enthralled face as she becomes invested in the storyline and the characters.

As the movie progresses and Ali drinks her wine and gets sleepier, she curls her body and shifts to the side, unbothered by the way she’s nearly touching Ashlyn. Ashlyn, on the other hand, stiffens as to not let a single hair brush one of Ali’s.

Ali’s eyes flutter shut as she hears the familiar music of the movie ending, and Ashlyn reaches over her for the remote to turn off the TV. Suddenly, Ali is wide awake with Ashlyn’s warmth surrounding her and that amazing, sexy fragrance overtaking her senses. She can’t help it when she buries her face in Ashlyn’s neck without thinking.

“Sorry,” Ashlyn whispers, assuming she miscalculated the distance between her body and Ali’s, but when she pulls back to look down at her, Ali pulls her back down for a kiss.

Ashlyn’s lips taste even better than Ali imagined, and she’s glad she got to shower and wash off her lipstick before this inevitably happened, well aware of how annoying it is to have a waxy, messy first kiss.

“Ali,” Ashlyn breathes when Ali finally lets go of the back of her neck and breaks for air.

“I’m sorry,” Ali says. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s okay,” Ashlyn says. “You’re a good kisser.”

“I know.” Ali smirks, brushing a hair out of her face in what looks like a calculated move.

“My biggest concern is that I don’t know your last name.”

“Krieger,” Ali says. “As you know, I’m so easy I don’t have that requirement of you.”

“Harris,” Ashlyn says.

“I know, I Googled when you were in the shower,” Ali confesses.

Ashlyn rolls her eyes playfully. “Nice to, um, meet you, I guess,” she says, suddenly sounding nervous and shy.

“We don’t have to sleep together,” Ali says. “I know you have certain standards.”

“I don’t think we’re getting around sleeping together,” Ashlyn says, looking at their surroundings. “But I think maybe I’d like to take you on a date before I make you scream my name.”

“First and last?” Ali teases.

“Here’s hoping,” Ashlyn says. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“You,” Ali retorts, pleased with the extra shot of snark her glasses of wine have provided so far.

“Perfect,” Ashlyn laughs.

“More kissing for now though?” Ali asks. “I mean, we could practice for this weekend. I know how you athletes like to do that.”

Ashlyn answers with another kiss, one that she's considerably more prepared for, therefore already a million times better than the first, and Ali murmurs in protest when she pulls away momentarily to quip “Practice makes perfect.”


	2. wonderstruck (blushing all the way home)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The First Date™

The last time Ali was in trouble for not being home on time was when she was 18 and back home from college for Thanksgiving. She had gone out to a high school friend’s party where her class had “reunited” after what they thought had been the most life-changing six months of their lives. (Ha. Little did they know at the time.)

Instead of staying sober or finding a designated driver, Ali had decided to spend the night, not bothering to inform her parents, who, by the time she woke up the next morning, had all but sent the Coast Guard looking for her.

Naturally, she was in major hot water when she finally got home, leading to a blow-up fight about her agency as an adult and the rules when she's under her parents’ roof. After all the dust settled, they had enjoyed a happier and more communicative four years, and Ali knew better than to move home when she graduated, not interested in being suffocated by her parents’ rules and expectations after enjoying so much freedom at school.

So she moved to Florida to live with Kyle, a dream situation because she can keep an eye on him, but they both conduct their own affairs and manage their own careers and personal lives. They fight like siblings, but there's nobody else Ali would rather have to vent to or binge on ice cream with late at night.

On the night Ali meets Ashlyn, Kyle is out of town, so Ali doesn't worry about her lack of phone charger or informing anyone of her location, which in retrospect she realizes could have ended badly had Ashlyn been a serial killer or something.

She fully intends to call Kyle and tell him everything that happened the night before as soon as she gets back to her car to charge her phone and get to work, but then she spends her morning kissing Ashlyn instead.

She calls work from her hotel room, informing them of her “unfortunate” incident from the night before, and they respond with empathy, saying they're glad she survived the scary storm and found a safe place to stay the night. She agrees as she nuzzles into Ashlyn’s warm neck.

It's just past lunchtime when Ali finally gets home, thankful that her car was in a parking garage safe from falling trees and power lines and that her neighborhood didn't get hit badly apart from some palm fronds in the pool. The most surprising thing about her arrival, in fact, is that Kyle’s car is in the driveway, signaling his early return.

“Hey!” she exclaims, breezing through the doorway to see Kyle in the kitchen.

He jumps out of his skin before lifting his head and turning to see her. “You better have a really good explanation.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh my God, Alex, are you serious? I was calling and texting you all night once I heard about the storm!”

“Weren't you in New York?” Ali asks, confused.

“Yeah, and I might still be there if I'd gotten confirmation that you hadn't died and our house didn't blow away!” he exclaims. “I got on the first plane they could get out this morning, and trust me, it was not a cheap ticket.”

“I'm sorry,” Ali sighs. “I was stuck in downtown Orlando after the show, so I got a room for the night. I couldn't get to my car for my phone charger, so it died.”

“And you couldn't call me?” Kyle asks.

“I didn't think you'd need to know!” Ali says. “I'm sorry, please don't be mad.” She pouts, and Kyle’s eyes soften. He's always been powerless against his little sister’s puppy dog face. “I met a girl.”

Kyle claps his hands together and his eyes light up. “Okay, forgiven! Who is she? How'd you meet?”

Ali hops onto a barstool and starts to tell him the story as he brews a pot of coffee for them to share. By the time she finishes, his eyes are wide, his coffee cold and untouched.

“Who are you?” he squeals. “You for real had a sleepover with some hot chick you met what, two hours earlier?”

Ali shrugs. “Probably could have banged her too if I'd just asked one more time.”

“You sound like such a fuckboy,” Kyle groans, rolling his eyes. “I'm so proud!”

“Haha,” Ali deadpans. “But for real, she needs to go shopping and do something about this hair before Friday night.” She lifts her split ends to her face and pouts.

“How lucky are you to have a gay brother now?” Kyle grins.

~

Ali barely gets anything done at work on Friday, too preoccupied daydreaming about her date with Ashlyn tonight. They're going for drinks and dinner on the beach, which is a more traditional first date than Ali would have expected from Ashlyn.

Texting Ashlyn is fun because it doesn't feel like there's any pressure to keep up some sort of conversation, but Ali finds herself smiling and laughing throughout the day while she texts Kyle on the side to express her nerves and excitement.

She also learns her lesson about multitasking while texting when she sends “Shit I forgot to shave my legs. She's not going to want to sleep with a Wookiee!”—clearly a message meant for Kyle—to Ashlyn while processing an expense report. She realizes almost as soon as she hits send, at which point it's obviously too late.

The typing bubbles pop up almost instantly while Ali’s heart beats out of her chest till Ashlyn replies. “Ha, I wouldn't be so sure ;)” she says. “If Chewbacca was as good a kisser as you are, I don't think I'd kick him out of bed.”

Luckily, Ali has time to shower and shave when she runs home to change before meeting Ashlyn at the restaurant. She kept Kyle up way past both of their usual bedtimes the night before trying to pick an outfit, but they finally settled on white high-rise jeans and a patterned crop top that bares just a sliver of Ali's midriff, just enough to keep Ashlyn guessing, according to Kyle. Before she leaves, he makes her pinky swear to let him know if she has too much to drink and needs a ride, but she doesn't want to be too drunk to enjoy her evening with Ashlyn, so she agrees but implores him not to worry.

Ashlyn is waiting outside the restaurant when Ali gets there, wearing almost exactly the same thing she wore the night they met (“I don't have that many impressive outfits, and it worked the other night, so…”). She hugs Ali and kisses her on the cheek before opening the door for her, and Ali melts again at the fragrance that apparently makes her swoon every time.

“Is outside okay?” Ashlyn asks when they get to the hostess’ stand. “It's not too hot, and the sunset is to die for.”

“Sure,” Ali agrees, smiling warmly. This isn't her first first date by a long shot, not even her first first date this month, so she's not easily impressed, but she likes the way she doesn't feel like Ashlyn’s trying to impress her. She's considerate, opening doors and pulling out chairs, but it doesn't feel like an act. She actually seems to genuinely care when Ali tells her about her day, waiting for the appropriate pauses to ask questions and make comments, and perhaps most importantly, she makes Ali laugh.

“I worked here in the summers when I was in high school,” Ashlyn says, looking around. “Denise too. It was us and a bunch of our friends, and they totally knew we were stealing alcohol after closing to drink on the beach, but we were always on time and we were polite to customers and brought in a ton of tips, so they looked the other way.”

“How rebellious,” Ali teases. “You'd totally rob an old lady while helping her cross the street.”

“Or steal a girl’s heart while pretending to be nice enough to buy her dinner,” Ashlyn quips.

“So I'm not the first woman you've wined and dined?” Ali asks in mock astonishment. “I'm scandalized!”

“Maybe not,” Ashlyn laughs. “But you're definitely the first to make me this nervous.”

“Oh, come on, what a line!” Ali exclaims, sipping her wine to hide the blush on her cheeks.

“Not a line!” Ashlyn insists. “Beautiful women make me nervous. And I cope with that by talking too much and making dumb jokes, and you just happened to be charmed by it.”

“I just felt bad for you,” Ali says. “At a show all alone pining after your ex.”

“I was not pining!”

“Bullshit,” Ali says. “You missed the whole first act because you were staring at her.”

“And then the whole second act because I was staring at you.”

“Okay, now that's a line,” Ali laughs.

“Okay, fine,” Ashlyn concedes. “That was a line. I was too nervous to look at you anyway, at least till we were both equally drenched.” Ali raises an eyebrow suggestively. “By rain.”

“I know what you meant,” Ali murmurs, leaning back in the beach chair she's sitting in and sliding off her wedges to dig her toes in the warm sand. “What's the worst part about being a professional athlete?”

Ashlyn looks thrown. “What?”

“Is that such a weird question?”

“Kind of,” Ashlyn admits. “Usually people ask what the best part is. That's kind of negative.”

“No it's not,” Ali says. “I assume the job is great and fun and rewarding overall or you wouldn't do it. The worst part about my job is being micromanaged. The rest is awesome. What about you?”

Ashlyn thinks for a second before smiling slightly and nodding to her salad. “I had a greasy burger and fries the other night, so I can't have any more fun this week,” she says. “Food fun anyway. And after this glass of wine, I'm done.”

Ali lifts an eyebrow, looking down at her own seafood pasta dish. She likes to think of herself as a pretty fit person and a healthy eater, but she's never considered what it must be like for maintaining your body to be your job.

“Always being second,” Ashlyn adds, almost as an afterthought.

“What?” Ali furrows her brow in Ashlyn’s apparent change in mood.

“On the national team,” Ashlyn says. “I don't start, and there's something unsettling about that I guess. I'm really competitive, but these girls are like my family, especially Hope—she's the starting goalkeeper.”

“Right, of course I know Hope Solo,” Ali says, realizing only after the words leave her mouth that it was the wrong thing to say.

Ashlyn smiles anyway. “It's weird to know the only way my dream—I mean the full, ultimate dream of actually playing in one of those huge games—is if someone I love and care for and think the world of gets hurt or decides she's done for some reason.”

“Yeah,” Ali says softly. “Wow.”

Ashlyn shrugs. “C’est la vie,” she says, clinking her wine glass against Ali’s.

“I know you've probably heard everything in the world about how life isn't fair and all that,” Ali says. “Or how you have to just, like, embrace it, but that's bullshit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you have an important role to play in this world,” Ali says. “And it kind of kills me to think about you missing out on it because you're so focused on soccer Ashlyn.”

“Okay, explain.”

“You're a phenomenal soccer player,” Ali says. “I Googled you, remember? When I got home, I dug some more. I found videos and pictures and news articles about how incredible you are. That's amazing, but then I was thinking about how I really like you and I'm not even a soccer fan. And how kind and genuine you are. And now, you saying that, it just makes me crazy. You are living your dream, but dreams are fuzzy, it's up to you to straighten out the edges and make it clear. You can't control anyone but you.”

Ashlyn raises her eyebrows, trying to follow along.

“Soccer’s your ultimate dream. So what else? I don't mean secondary dreams, I mean dreams that are just as important as soccer but maybe they don't get the same recognition or the same paycheck.”

Ashlyn blushes. “I'd like to spend my life with someone,” she says. “Start a family. Be a mom.”

“Good!” Ali says. “What else?”

“Get a German Shepherd,” Ashlyn throws out. “Write a book.”

“What would you write about?”

“I don't know,” Ashlyn says. “My life? Is that cheesy?”

“I don't think so,” Ali answers. “I think you could change lives.”

“That's another one.”

“Another what?”

“Another dream,” Ashlyn admits. “Changing someone’s life.”

Something catches Ali's eye, and she whips her head around to see two teenage girls looking their way and whispering. She narrows her eyes in irritation and turns back to Ashlyn. “God, it's like people have never seen two women on a date,” she grumbles, spearing an olive in her pasta.

“Don't worry,” Ashlyn whispers. “Have you ever… been out like this?”

“Of course I have!” Ali exclaims, but when she thinks about it, she's actually not sure. Her “dates” with her college girlfriend were usually coffee or frozen yogurt runs, but everyone in their college town did that sort of thing with their roommates and platonic friends who were girls.

“You know I'm not going to, like, mount you, right? At least not here. No promises when we get out of here, though.”

“Shut up!” Ali exclaims, laughing and throwing a napkin toward her.

“Excuse me,” a small voice says, and Ali looks up to realize that while she was distracted by Ashlyn, the two girls had approached their table. “Can we have your autograph?”

They're talking to Ashlyn, of course, who beams and offers them one better—tickets to her game Sunday. They get a few quick selfies and one real picture that Ali takes for them, and Ashlyn jots down their names to hold tickets at will call for them.

Ali watches them leave, comparing photos and squealing about their luck and turns back to smile at Ashlyn. “I think you've already changed a few lives.”

~

It's easy to figure out where they should go after dinner, as Ashlyn lives an hour away in Orlando while Ali, who works in Orlando, lives a lot closer to the restaurant, just up the shore in Merritt Island.

“This is so cute,” Ashlyn gushes when they walk into the townhouse.

Ali is relieved that Kyle isn't home, figuring he probably got bored waiting around to grill Ashlyn and decided to go out with friends. “Thanks!” she says. “We've talked about moving to the city, but we love this place so much we don't want to give it up.”

“I'd love to live somewhere around here when I settle down,” Ashlyn says. “Living close to where we practice and play is huge for me, though. My best friend lives right down the street with her husband, and we carpool.”

“If work didn't reimburse me for gas, this would be hell,” Ali laughs. “It's a nice area, though. There's not as much to do, but we’re close enough to Cocoa Beach and Orlando to have fun when we want to.”

“Oh, so you just go to Orlando to pick up chicks,” Ashlyn teases. “I see.”

“I'm glad it finally worked,” Ali replies, turning around to kiss Ashlyn for the first time all night.

“I was hoping you'd do that eventually,” Ashlyn murmurs when Ali pulls away.

“You could have done it too,” Ali reminds her.

“Yeah, but I didn't know if you'd want that in public,” Ashlyn says. “For the record, I'm not publicly, like, out. I've dated women, and fans speculate, but I tend to keep my personal and professional lives as separate as possible.”

“Does that mean there are no extra tickets for me to your game Sunday?” Ali asks.

“What? You'd want to go to that?” Ashlyn asks, pleasantly surprised. “I thought you didn't like soccer.”

“I could be persuaded if there's a cute girl to watch in goal,” Ali says. “Besides, purple is totally my color.”

“Yeah!” Ashlyn agrees. “Of course! I'd love that.”

“Great,” Ali says with a toothy grin, kissing her again. “So, um, do you want the grand tour or do you want to go straight to my room?”

Ashlyn smiles. “We have all the time in the world,” she says. “I don't want to rush it. Just show me around.”

“Fine,” Ali groans jokingly, beginning her tour in the kitchen and living room.

Ashlyn asks about certain family photos and the book Ali left on the coffee table that she was reading last night, but as they walk through the house, Ashlyn slips her hand into Ali’s, casually interlacing their fingers in what feels like a much more intimate gesture.

Ali’s room is conveniently the last stop on the tour, but as they're leaving Kyle’s room (he must have known she’d show Ashlyn, because he’d cleaned), Ali stops in the hall.

“So next is my room,” she says, taking Ashlyn’s other hand. “And just so you're aware of my intentions, I plan on staying there. With you. All night. Is that cool?”

Ashlyn smiles. “I like you,” she says. “You're cute.”

“I'm serious!”

“Seriously cute,” Ashlyn says, pecking her lips. “Yes, I'm cool with that. But first, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.” She sees Ali’s face scrunch a little, so she pecks her again. “Nothing scary. I want to sleep with you, but I don't want this to be the last time I see you. I want to sleep with you a lot and take you on more dates and maybe one day call you my girlfriend. Just so you know where I stand.” She pauses. “Is that cool?”

Ali beams. “Very cool,” she says.

When Ali’s lying on her back later, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to control her breathing as Ashlyn buries her head between Ali’s legs, she realizes this is the first time in a long time a first date has ended the way she really wanted. Usually when Ali finishes dinner with someone new, she's thinking about later, when she gets to have sex with them. Even before dinner with Ashlyn ended, Ali was already fantasizing about the second date and what she could do to make Ashlyn feel as treated as Ali did tonight.

She's far from having a dry spell, but not only is Ashlyn way better than any of the people Ali has slept with, well, ever (Ali is already seeing stars for the second time in the past 20 minutes), she also makes Ali feel amazing beyond just her physical pleasure.

When it's quiet, Ali doesn't feel the need to chit chat mindlessly or fill the silence somehow. Her fingers dance across Ashlyn’s naked back when they finish, not feeling the slightest hesitation before wrapping her arms around Ashlyn and pressing against her back to be the big spoon.

“I should go,” Ashlyn murmurs after a few minutes, but Ali just holds her closer.

“No,” Ali whines.

“What about when your brother comes home?”

“He brings random guys back all the time!”

Ashlyn turns over so she's facing Ali. “I'm just some random girl?” she challenges.

“No,” Ali whines again, pressing her thigh between Ashlyn’s legs. “But you're warm and I want you to stay. It's not like it's our first sleepover and you have to freak out and run away. That's usually my job anyway. You're the one who doesn't sleep with strangers.”

“Yeah, but apparently now I sleep with someone who sleeps with strangers,” Ashlyn teases. “Should I be concerned?”

“About what?” Ali asks. “I'm clean.”

“I'm joking,” Ashlyn says. “I'm not concerned at all. Except maybe about you having so many other prospects that you'll lose interest in me.”

“Hm, yeah, you should be,” Ali agrees. “If it makes you feel better, I've come more times tonight than I have in the past month. With other people, anyway.”

Ashlyn’s cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and pride. Not only does she not sleep with random people (in fact, she can count her sexual partners on one hand), but she really doesn't talk about sex too much, so hearing someone be as open and blunt as Ali is thrilling and nerve-wracking at the same time.

“How can you be shy after that?” Ali teases.

“You just look so innocent, and then I can't believe the filthy things that come out of your mouth.”

“I'm full of surprises,” Ali murmurs, leaning in for a kiss.

Ashlyn wraps her arms around Ali’s waist, but she freezes when she hears someone come through the front door.

“Al?” Kyle calls. “Is Soccer Hottie still here?” He knows her name, but he insists on calling her that till he's formally introduced.

Ali rolls her eyes, sitting up to throw on a T-shirt and pull on underwear from the dresser. “Here, put this on,” she says, throwing Ashlyn a flannel and the type of tiny cotton shorts Ashlyn hasn't worn since she was in high school.

“From your cheerleading days?” Ashlyn asks as she pulls them up. “He's going to know we were having sex.”

“Trust me, he's not scandalized by much,” Ali says. “Our other option is waiting till he decides to barge in. Be out in a sec!” she calls back.

When they finally emerge, Ali wearing her enormous T-shirt from a trip to Crested Butte and Ashlyn pulling at the short shorts to cover herself a bit more, Kyle is sitting on the living room couch expectantly.

“She's still here!” he exclaims. “And you brought her out to meet me! Do I hear wedding bells?”

Ashlyn turns red, but Ali doesn't seem fazed.

“Kyle, this is Ashlyn,” she says. “Ashlyn, my brother. Kyle.”

“I didn't mean to interrupt what looks like an important roll in the hay,” he says, eyeing Ashlyn and smirking when her blush grows deeper.

“That's exactly what you meant to do, jerk,” Ali says.

“Maybe,” he concedes. “So Ashlyn, what are your intentions with my sister?”

“Good night, Kyle,” Ali groans.

“Fine, but can she stick around for brunch tomorrow?” Kyle asks. “My treat.”

Ali looks to Ashlyn for confirmation, and she nods.

“Perfect,” Ali says, grabbing her hand. “We’re going back to bed. I left ear plugs on your pillow.”

Ashlyn is mortified, which Ali realizes once they get back in her room. 

“What's wrong?” Ali asks, suddenly concerned.

“He… you… how are you that open with your brother?”

“He's only a year older,” Ali laughs. “If you'd been through as much as we have been through together with anyone, you'd be that open with them too.”

Ashlyn nods, but Ali can tell she isn't sure how she feels about it.

“I'll tell him to go easy on you for a bit,” Ali promises, placing her hands on Ashlyn’s hips and standing on her tiptoes for a kiss. “He’s a little protective, but I promise he's harmless, and I know he's going to love you.”

“Maybe I can persuade him a little more with a ticket to a soccer game on Sunday?” Ashlyn suggests.

“Oh yes,” Ali says. “Bribery is definitely the way to his heart. That and being nice to me.”

“I think I've been very nice to you tonight,” Ashlyn says. “At least if your pleases and thank yous were anything to go by.”

“I did not say thank you!” Ali exclaims, racking her brain as she tries to remember.

“You're right, you didn't,” Ashlyn says. “Bad manners. I guess you'll have to make it up to me some other way.”

Ali squeals when Ashlyn picks her up and lays her back down on the bed, kissing her neck and ignoring the banging on the wall separating Ali’s room from Kyle’s.


	3. playful conversation starts (counter all your quick remarks)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Soccer Game™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have any idea how long these chapter titles will be able to last, but I'm too lazy to come up with anything else. So!

Ashlyn’s team (the Pride, she learns, mainly so she can tease her about how gay it is later) beats the red team from Portland handily, but Ali can tell when Ashlyn lets in a goal that the win means very little in comparison.

“You were awesome!” Ali tells her when Ashlyn comes around to greet fans.

The tickets she got Ali and Kyle are in the friends and family section, which made Ali nervous until a kind-looking man approached her and extended his hand to introduce himself, saying that Ashlyn told him to look out for her.

His name is Jamie, and he's known Ashlyn for ages, he says. He already knows she's Ali, but he tries to make polite conversation anyway despite Ashlyn probably telling him absolutely everything she's learned about Ali so far.

“Thanks,” Ashlyn sighs. “Did you guys have a good time?”

“Great,” Ali says, and she considers bending down to peck her on the lips before realizing she is a public figure and there are thousands of screaming fans watching her and willing her to come over to where they are to sign their merchandise. “I'm glad I paid extra for your team to win.”

Ashlyn smirks. “Whose autograph do you want? I can send anyone over.”

“The girl who scored on you,” Ali jokes. “She's hot.”

“And taken,” Ashlyn laughs. “She's on the National Team with me. No loyalty.” She looks around. “I should probably go sign so I can shower and not be so gross. Are you guys doing anything? I'm starving, and I think some of the girls and I are going out to eat.”

Ali looks at Kyle, who cringes. “I have an appointment,” he says.

“He drove us,” Ali says, unable to hide the disappointment on her voice.

“Okay, so I'll take care of you,” Jamie says. “I’m headed back to Melbourne, you're not far at all.”

“Are you sure?” Ali asks, looking between him and Ashlyn. “I don't want to be too much trouble.”

“Not a chance,” Jamie says before turning to Ashlyn. “Text me where we should meet you.”

The ride to the restaurant, which is really more of a sports bar, is considerably less awkward than Ali anticipates. They find they have more in common than just Ashlyn, like the books they've read and the movies they love. Jamie tries to give her the rundown on the Pride and the national team and everything in between because Ashlyn hasn't gotten around to giving her the ins and outs yet.

“Allie is the blonde one,” he whispers. “Tobin is next to her, and Alex is the one sitting next to Ashlyn.”

Ashlyn stands when she sees Ali and Jamie, moving past Alex to give them hugs. It's clear that all the girls know at least conceptually who Ali is and why she's there, because Alex moves to the other side of the table to squeeze between Allie and Tobin while Ashlyn offers the inside of the booth to Ali.

“What's your full name?” Ashlyn asks, turning to Ali, who looks confused.

“Uh, Ali Krieger?” Ali replies.

“No like, what's Ali short for?”

“Oh, Alexandra,” Ali says.

“Told you so!” Alex exclaims. “Welcome to the club! Now there are three of us.”

Allie groans, having been on the side of the debate that assumed it was short for Alison or something else because what are the chances she would be yet another Alexandra?

Ali laughs, sipping the water Ashlyn ordered ahead from her while the girls start grilling her about everything that's happened in the past five days and loading up on food to replenish their energy after playing their hearts out.

Ashlyn leans over while everyone is busy paying attention to their food to whisper in Ali’s ear. “You're gorgeous,” she says. “Purple really is your color. I'm going to have to get you a whole bunch of Pride stuff to represent.” Ali blushes, but she offers her cheek for Ashlyn to kiss. “Do you want to come over after this?”

“Yeah, I want to see your house!” Ali says excitedly. “Should I ride with you or Jamie?”

“I mean I was hoping maybe it would just be me and you,” Ashlyn says. “You could spend the night. I can take you to work in the morning?”

Ali blushes deeper. “Um, I started my period this morning,” she whispers.

“That's okay,” Ashlyn says, unfazed. “I didn't mean we had to—unless you want to go home, that's fine too, I just—”

“No, I'll stay,” Ali says. “If you can rub my tummy to make my cramps feel better.”

“Absolutely,” Ashlyn agrees, sliding a hand behind Ali’s body to rub her lower back. She likes to be touched there when she's cramping, so she figures Ali might too, and she can tell she's right when Ali relaxes into her touch.

“The story of how you two met is the cutest,” Alex gushes when she slides into the backseat of Ashlyn’s car. She and Ashlyn carpool to nearly every team event, and they live so close that it's easy. “I can't believe it's been less than a week and you're already at a game. That's dedication.”

Ali laughs.

“And you must be something special to get Ashlyn to put out on the first date,” she continues.

“Alex!” Ashlyn hisses. Ali laughs uncomfortably but waves it off. “Can you not ruin this relationship for me before it even starts?”

Ali responds by slipping her hand through Ashlyn’s and holding it silently over the console while Ashlyn drives home. They chat throughout the car ride, but it isn't until they're alone that Ali speaks directly to Ashlyn.

“For what it's worth, I'm not a slut,” she says quietly. “I know we like, joked about stuff, but I know sex is important to you. It's important to me too, just in a different way maybe.”

“I didn't tell them anything like that!” Ashlyn insists. “Alex just knew I didn't come home Friday night, so she assumed, and I didn't want to lie to her.”

“No, I know,” Ali says. “I trust you. And I don't care if you talk to your friends about us. I just don't want you to think I wasn't taking it seriously.”

“I know,” Ashlyn says. “I wouldn't have done it if I wasn't sure about it. And as you know, I enjoyed it. I really really enjoyed it.” She kisses Ali between each breath to punctuate her words.

“Do you usually have a three-date rule?” Ali teases.

Ashlyn turns red. “Uh, a little more than that.”

“Really?”

“I've never had sex with someone who I wasn't in a relationship with,” Ashlyn says. “And Denise is really the only one I've slept with after we broke up.”

“But you've had a threesome!” Ali exclaims, amazed.

“Yeah, with my girlfriend at the time and Denise,” Ashlyn says. “I'm pretty sure that's what ruined it, honestly. Well that and distance and the fact that we thought a threesome would save it.”

Ali cringes. “Ouch. For what it's worth, after seeing you two together for less than a minute I know for sure I'd never want to be the third wheel in that threesome.”

“I don't think I'd do it again,” Ashlyn admits. “It's a little complicated, and it's more thrilling to have sex with someone you really like and trust. You know, when you're not trying to impress them and you can be silly and have fun.”

“I did have a lot of fun the other night,” Ali agrees, sliding a hand up Ashlyn’s thigh as she pulls into the driveway of a decent-sized house, not quite a mansion like Alex’s, but considerably bigger than the house Ali grew up in. “And I do like you. But I'm still trying to impress you.”

“You're already the cutest girl I've ever met,” Ashlyn says, flirting in the way Ali hasn't been flirted with in a while. It feels good, but more than that, it feels genuine, like she's doing it for a higher purpose than getting into Ali’s pants. After all, she's done that a few times already.

Ali pecks Ashlyn on the lips before deepening it, holding her face like she can't get close enough.

“Come on,” Ashlyn says, pulling away before she can be too exasperated when Ali inevitably brings an end to the kiss. “Let me show you inside.”

The house is beautiful, but Ali thinks her favorite view is the one of Ashlyn’s ceiling as she lays her head on her chest later that night. She imagines the view could only get better with Ashlyn on top of her. Sunday nights are always a bit melancholy, but this one feels different. She already tore through Ashlyn’s closet for something to wear to work tomorrow, and now there’s nothing left to do but whisper in the dark, story after story of exes and childhood injuries and names for their future dogs.

Ali doesn't think she's ever felt quite as domestic as she does when Ashlyn wakes her up with a kiss and a cup of coffee, but then she comes downstairs to egg white omelets and turkey bacon, and she feels like she must be on a TV Land show. And even then, none of that compares to when Ashlyn drops her off at work and pecks her on the lips before she goes.

“I had fun with you last night,” Ashlyn says. “I'm glad you stayed over.”

“Me too,” Ali replies, beaming.

“We’re not, like, moving too fast, are we?” Ashlyn wants to take the words back immediately, but Ali shakes her head, smiling.

“You had me in bed within hours of meeting you,” Ali reminds her. “I think this is the perfect pace for us. My week at work is kind of hectic, but luckily my period will be over and I'll be good to go by this weekend.”

Ashlyn pouts. “But we have an away game in DC.”

“No!” Ali whines. “When do you leave?”

“Thursday,” Ashlyn answers after consulting the calendar on her phone. “That afternoon. Maybe we could have lunch before I go? Or else I'll be back Sunday.”

“It's a date,” Ali agrees, pressing her lips to Ashlyn’s again.

~

Ashlyn has to force herself to stay cool the rest of the week even though she desperately wants to hang out with Ali again and spend as much time with her as she can before leaving for the weekend, but when she swings by Ali’s office on Thursday at noon, Ali’s wide smile is enough to make the prior days worth it.

“You smell so good,” Ali murmurs when she climbs into the Jeep and immediately presses a kiss to Ashlyn’s cheek. “As usual.”

“I might need to get you a bottle of this,” Ashlyn laughs, shifting the car into drive and setting off to the sushi place that she hopes won't be too crowded for lunch.

“No, then I'd get used to it and it wouldn't be as special when I got to see you,” Ali says. She peers over her shoulder to see Ashlyn’s suitcase in the backseat. “How much time do you have?”

“I'm leaving from dropping you off,” Ashlyn says.

“Is Alex pissed?”

“No,” Ashlyn laughs. “She'll be fine. She's spending quality time with her husband and her dog.”

Ali smiles knowingly. Alex had spent half of dinner Sunday night showing her pictures of Blue. “Tell her I'm available if she ever needs a dog sitter.”

“I might need a house sitter,” Ashlyn says. “I hate how cold my bed is when I get home from a trip.”

Ali laughs. “Your bed is amazing, so I'd be more than willing to help out if Kyle wouldn't kill me for never being around.”

“I guess I'd rather keep you from him when I'm actually around to enjoy it,” Ashlyn decides.

“Speaking of, I'm good for a quickie if you'd rather just go home,” Ali teases, eyes sparkling.

“I don't think I'd be able to stop at a quickie,” Ashlyn groans, pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant, which is practically empty, exactly what she wanted. “I promise this place is one of the best-kept secrets of Orlando.”

“I trust you,” Ali replies, grinning when Ashlyn comes around to her side to open the door for her. She doesn't hold her hand, but Ali knows she would if she could, judging by the way Ashlyn shoves her hands in her pockets to avoid accidentally grabbing Ali’s.

Inside, the only other diners are an elderly couple and a man and woman with two kids who are young but well-behaved. The lights are dim, giving it a romantic feel even at noon, and Ashlyn pulls out a chair for Ali when they are seated.

“You're very sweet and chivalrous,” Ali says, taking a sip of the water their waitress brought out immediately.

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Ashlyn says, her heart racing. “I know we talked about, like, moving too fast and we both agreed we aren't, but I really like you. Like more than anyone I've ever known for a little over a week.”

Ali blushes. “I like you too,” she says. “And for what it's worth, I tend to have that effect on people who I've fucked.”

It's Ashlyn's turn to blush, and she sips her water to cool her down before continuing. “I want to date you,” she says. “And pursue a relationship with you.”

“Me too,” Ali agrees. “So much.”

“Here's where it gets complicated and I want to make sure we’re on the same page,” Ashlyn starts.

Ali sits up straighter in her chair, lifting an eyebrow. “Okay…”

“It's an Olympic year,” she says. “This is the only real stretch of time I have at home until September probably, and even now I'm away every other weekend for games. The past few days I've been trying to figure out why I would meet the girl of my dreams now when there's absolutely no way I can give you the kind of new, heart fluttery, exciting relationship that I want to give you.”

“For what it's worth, this is exciting to me,” Ali says softly, reaching a hand across the table for Ashlyn’s. “And my heart is totally fluttery.”

“Same,” Ashlyn says. “Which is why I don't want to let this slip through my fingers. If you're willing to start a relationship where it'll be 90 percent long distance for, well, the first four or five months, I'm in. But I don't want to start anything under false pretenses.”

Ali nods slowly, letting it all sink in. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

Ashlyn grins. “I guess I am.”

Ali smiles back softly. “Can I… maybe have a few days to think about it?”

Ashlyn's face falls, but she tries to recover quickly. This is what she wanted, she reminds herself, not a blind “yes” that could backfire and hurt them both, but a real answer that would spare their hearts from something they aren't ready to handle.

“It's not a no,” Ali says quickly, noticing Ashlyn’s face. “I just need a little bit of time. Knowing what I know about long distance relationships—which is practically nothing—I don't want to make the decision lightly.”

“I know,” Ashlyn says. “I don't want to rush you. I just… didn't want to leave and lose my nerve to ask.”

“Can I kiss you?” Ali asks, looking around. The young couple is gone, and the older one doesn't seem to be paying attention.

“Yeah,” Ashlyn says, leaning forward so Ali can close the gap between them.

“For the record, I'm super honored that you asked,” Ali says. “And I'm going to miss you this weekend. The past few days were torture and I knew you were only a short drive away.”

“God, I know,” Ashlyn groans. “Especially when you posted that picture on Instagram by the pool with Kyle.”

“Haha so that wasn't just a pity like?” Ali teases. “I got a lot of new followers after that. Did you know your fans can see when you thirst follow some random chick?”

“So not a thirst follow,” Ashlyn says.

“Don't worry, I made my account private, so you can comment all the inappropriate things you'd like now.”

“Noted,” Ashlyn laughs.

“So where can I watch your game this weekend?” Ali asks. “What channel?”

Ashlyn rolls her eyes. “You're such a rookie. They stream all our games on YouTube, I'll text you the link.”

“Fancy,” Ali jokes. “How 21st century.”

“Pretty much,” Ashlyn laughs, finding it endearing that Ali would see the positive in the league having no real television agreement.

“So who are you playing against this time?”

“It’s actually my old team, the one I played for before the Pride existed. So a lot of familiar faces and old friends."

“Any national teammates?”

“A couple,” Ashlyn says, shifting in her seat. “Um, one is my friend Crystal and the other is named Spencer.”

“Not your friend?” Ali asks, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, tell me the gossip. I want to know the team drama!”

“There's no drama,” Ashlyn insists, but she seems to be too interested in picking at her napkin to look at Ali. “Spencer is my friend, I guess. She's also my ex.”


	4. please don't be in love with someone else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Away Game™

“Alex, can you get your ass in here?” Kyle calls across the house.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Ali exclaims, rushing into the living room wearing her purple Pride shirt, courtesy of Ashlyn.

“You are literally so gay,” Kyle laughs. “Please let me put you on my Snapchat.”

“If anyone’s gayer than this, it’s your thousands of thirsty followers,” Ali teases, posing for the sudden picture, mouth wide in an excited smile, which she drops as soon as she hears the camera sound. “Happy?”

“Well you will be when you realize I saved you from missing your bae being announced in the lineup.”

“She’s not my bae,” Ali says, blushing. She doesn’t think she’s ever said that word before, and it feels foreign on her tongue, but Kyle has been teasing her since he found out about Ashlyn asking her to be her girlfriend after just over a week of knowing each other. Not surprisingly, his advice had been to be careful, but after seeing them together, he couldn’t come up with a reason not to go for it.

Ali’s still undecided on the whole relationship thing, at least for right now. She’s pretty sure she wants to be with Ashlyn at some point, but the long-distance thing freaks her out, especially now that she’s heard all about the “bubble” the team likes to put around them when preparing for a big tournament like the Olympics. She’s not sure how she’ll react to being on the back burner in a brand new relationship.

Still, she can’t help the way her heartbeat quickens when she sees Ashlyn’s smirk as she waves to the crowd. They had texted for a bit this morning, so Ali knows how thrilled Ashlyn is to be back in the place she used to call home.

Ali narrows her eyes to size up the other team’s captain, Spencer MacKay, who she now knows way too much about. She’s the kind of pretty you can’t be friends with till she makes the first move by smiling at you or complimenting your shoes, her undoubtedly natural honey-brown hair pulled perfectly into a smooth ponytail with a small braid tucked into it. It sparkles in the sun so much that Ali has to squint to make sure she doesn’t have some sort of glitter hairspray in it. She’s wearing just enough makeup to make her dark brown eyes sparkle like there are flecks of sunlight in them, but it looks so natural that Ali wouldn’t be surprised if she woke up like that and just swiped on a bit of mascara as an afterthought.

“Is that the bitch?” Kyle asks.

“Stop it,” Ali chastises. “She and Ashlyn are fine. They’re teammates.”

“Yeah, but today they’re enemies, so you can say whatever you want.”

Ali rolls her eyes, smiling when she sees Ashlyn on the screen again. She doesn’t see her much for the remainder of the game, though she figures that’s probably a good thing because it means the Pride are attacking more. She cheers when Alex scores a goal, which apparently she’s quite good at, and she feels pretty good for the rest of the game until one of the Spirit players gets taken down in the box and the ref calls for a penalty kick.

“Oh God, I can’t watch,” Ali groans, peeking between the fingers she has over her eyes. She wanted to see more of Ashlyn, sure, but not like this.

Of course—of course!—Spencer steps up to take the penalty kick. Ali may not know much about soccer, but she’s pretty sure defenders aren’t usually the ones to whom this responsibility falls, and her jaw sets in a grimace. 

“Come on, Ash,” Ali whispers to herself just as Spencer slots the ball just outside of Ashlyn’s reach to the top left corner of the net. “Fuck!” She sees Ashlyn swear the same word as the camera catches her reaction.

Not long after, the referee blows her whistle, and Ali can see the irritation on Ashlyn’s face as she tries to force a smile to greet all her old teammates. The smile seems genuine after a few hugs and laughs, though, which makes Ali happy. Maybe she won’t wear this draw on her shoulders. After all, it was a sloppy tackle that put them in the situation to begin with. Ali texts her to let her know just that, and that she should be proud of herself because she played wonderfully.

Her smile vanishes as the camera focuses on Ashlyn taking off her gloves and looking up to smile at an approaching player who Ali quickly recognizes as Spencer. They look like they’re about to shake hands, but then Spencer stands on her tiptoes to hug Ashlyn for longer than Ali really likes. When they stop hugging, they keep talking, mostly out of the corners of their mouths as if they know the cameras are on them. Maybe it’s just habit, like when Ashlyn looks around when she and Ali are talking in public.

Kyle watches Ali’s face harden and reaches over to close the computer. “Anyway…” he says. “Wanna go get ice cream?”

The ice cream is enough to lessen Ali’s irritation for a few minutes, but after a long enough time of savoring her dessert in silence, she realizes her biggest annoyance is with herself. She has no claim over Ashlyn, and it’s not like she’s even known her that long, so why on earth is she so bitter toward a person who clearly has a great (and platonic, she has to keep reminding herself) relationship with Ashlyn for hugging her? And talking to her (Ali would go so far as to say flirting, but never out loud)?

After Ashlyn told her about Spencer’s existence, she told Ali everything she needed to know. They knew each other through mutual friends, they lost touch, then they reconnected when they both came into the National Team fold, but their relationship took off when the new league began and they were both allocated to the Spirit. They started as roommates for convenience’s sake, as they were the only two consistent National Team call-ups on the team at the time, and after enough late-night heart-to-hearts on the couch, Ashlyn had kissed Spencer, who kissed back before freaking out and leaving the apartment to clear her head.

Apparently, she cleared her head so much that when she came back to the apartment, she forgot which room was hers and crawled into Ashlyn’s bed to tell her she felt the same way. And make out.

Spencer had insisted upon taking Ashlyn on a date, which made their roommate situation painfully awkward until they got so comfortable that they were in a relationship without either officially asking the other to be her girlfriend. The more time they spent together, the more fans speculated about their status, which concerned Ashlyn more than it did Spencer, leading to their fair share of disagreements.

The relationship came to an end amicably after about two and a half years toward the end of the prior season, when both knew it just wasn’t working anymore. Luckily, they only had to be roommates for a few more weeks before the season ended and Ashlyn moved to Orlando as part of the expansion draft, but Ashlyn considers that time to be a godsend. It was necessary, she told Ali, to be forced to be communicative with her so they could continue to conduct themselves professionally on the National Team.

As far as Ali knows, Spencer isn’t dating anyone else, but that doesn’t stop her from scrolling through the last three years of her Instagram. There’s nothing blatantly romantic or gag-worthy about Ashlyn, but there are plenty of pictures of the two of them together with captions and poses that are just cute enough for fans to understandably suspect something could be up between them. She only stops when a text from Ashlyn shakes her from her spiral.

“Thanks, cutie :)” Ashlyn replies. “It means a lot that you watched. I’ll text you when I get in tomorrow and maybe we can get together?”

“Sounds fun,” Ali replies, drumming her thumbs over the keyboard as she stares at her bedroom ceiling. When Ashlyn left, she’d been nervous about seeing her again, but now she wants to see her as soon as possible.

“Perfect,” Ashlyn responds. “Sweet dreams :)”

Something about Ashlyn’s final text gives Ali’s body permission to feel sleepy, and she dozes off, her insides filled with warmth as she clutches her phone—and Ashlyn’s words—tight against her heart.

She wakes up earlier than she would have planned for a Sunday morning, and likely earlier than Ashlyn, so she takes it upon herself to initiate a good morning text accompanied by a sunshine and a kissy face emoji. She also texts Kyle to tell him she’s up before starting her morning routine of scrolling through her emails and social media before even getting up to pee.

Ever since they were little, one of them would go into the other’s room in the morning so they could start their day together. Thanks to the advent of technology, now the first one to wake up always texts the other instead, which Ali feels is a way better deal. If the early bird (usually Ali) gets the worm, why should she have to drag herself out of her warm bed to wake up her lazy brother?

She hates how Instagram doesn’t show everything in reverse chronological order anymore because it makes it harder to figure out if she’s missed something, but she has to admit it’s pretty good at figure out what she wants to see first. Usually it’s her friends’ pictures from nights out that she was a part of, then friends from home and from college, then whatever random brands or humor accounts she shamelessly follows.

Today, though, it seems to remember Ali stalking Spencer, along with all of Ashlyn’s teammates in the past week or so, and the first thing that graces Ali’s eyes is a photo that makes her throat clench. Ashlyn posted a photo in which she’s grinning in the middle of a group that Ali recognizes as a bunch of players from both teams with the caption “Nothing better than when your two families come together. Love both of these teams beyond words! Thanks for the sweet welcome back, DC. #missyou”

The photo wouldn’t have been a huge deal had Ashlyn not been sandwiched between Alex and—naturally—Spencer. In fact, Spencer is practically on Ashlyn’s lap thanks to the crowding of everyone to get into the photo.

Against her better judgment, Ali scrolls through the comments. She knows that when you go looking for something you’re bound to find it, but she can’t help her curiosity. Of course, there are plenty of comments from fans, who for some reason think it matters who was first to comment. There are others from names she recognizes from being called on the broadcast earlier or from her social media “research” on Ashlyn’s teammates.

Finally, she finds the one she’s looking for, the one she kind of hoped wasn’t there at all, but she knew would be. Her stupid username might be cute or clever if Ali liked her, but since yesterday’s post-game hug, she most decidedly does not.

smacthat11: My whole heart in one picture! I love and miss you, roomie. Oh, and thanks for never going easy on me during practice PKs ;) #topleftbaby

Ali grimaces as she double taps the photo, really just wanting Ashlyn to know she saw it. Who knows if she will, though? It already has 20,000 likes and it's only been up for five hours. She avoids the rest of the comments, knowing the fans would be freaking about Spencer’s comment, and she scrolls to the next picture, which might be even worse.

Alex posted this one, and again, Ashlyn is in the middle of her and Spencer, but the rest of the group is gone. Ali can see more clearly what Ashlyn is wearing, just head to toe black, but her shirt is so tight that with the flash, Ali can actually see the outline of her abs. Her arms hold Alex and Spencer’s waists tight, and she grins as the other two give their best model pouts.

They're both wearing short, relatively tight dresses, and Spencer’s hand rests firmly on Ashlyn’s chest, her knee up and over Ashlyn’s leg like some sort of Bond pin-up girl. Alex is doing almost the same thing on Ashlyn’s left, but it looks nowhere near as intimate.

Alex’s caption is worse than Ashlyn’s, saying “Ash wanted a picture with the two goal-scorers. Such a flirt. #squadgoals #lovers” with plenty of hearts.

Ali doesn't even have to click the comments before she sees all the fans writing #SPASHLYN over and over, tagging their friends who are sure it must still be a thing, not that they ever confirmed it was in the first place.

“What's going on?” Kyle asks sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he walks in. “You look pissed.”

Ali tries to adjust her face quickly, but she's too late. Besides, it's useless to try to hide anything from Kyle. She sighs. “I just figured out what I have to do about Ashlyn.”

~

“You’re here!” Ashlyn exclaims when she opens the door to her house, reaching out to hug Ali. “Come in, I literally just got back. I texted you when I was at baggage claim because I couldn’t wait, so I haven’t unpacked or showered or done anything.”

“Don’t worry, you’re fine, you’re perfect,” Ali says, fidgeting with her hands. “I’m glad, I was kind of going crazy waiting.”

“Were you?” Ashlyn laughs. “Do you want something to drink? I made myself a smoothie because I’m still kind of hungover from last night.”

“No, I’m okay,” Ali says. “Actually, water.” Maybe that’ll calm her nerves.

“Coming right up,” Ashlyn announces, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. “How was your weekend?”

“Fine,” Ali replies as Ashlyn pours from the filtered water in her fridge. “Uneventful. I went to a work happy hour on Friday then worked out on Saturday and went to the beach. Then watched your game, of course.”

Ashlyn cringes, sliding the glass of water across the counter to Ali. “Ugh. So pissed about that ending.”

“I could tell,” Ali says. “You don’t have much of a poker face.”

“I don’t, do I?” Ashlyn laughs. “We went out after, me and all the girls. I thought it was just going to be Alex and Spence, but everyone surprised me as like, a welcome back thing. It was pretty special.” Ali swallows a big gulp of water when she mentions Spencer, not wanting to reveal her own terrible poker face. “We Ubered home, it was such a shitshow, but it was the weirdest thing in the world to be back in that apartment. Like obviously I didn’t sleep in my—her bed, but like knowing I don’t live there but still knowing where the towels are kept was weird.”

“You stayed there?” Ali asks.

“Yeah, Alex and I stayed in the guest room.” Ashlyn pauses, reassessing Ali’s face. “Is that—are you upset? I didn’t even consider—” She cuts herself off. “I should have thought about how you’d feel.”

“I’m not upset,” Ali says, and it’s mostly true. She holds her glass with both hands so they have something to do. “I just want to talk about what you said—what we talked about before you left.”

Ashlyn stands up straight at that before realizing she might want to sit down, so she eases herself onto a barstool. “Okay.”

“Do you love her?” Ali asks. “Be honest.”

“I'm always going to have a soft spot for her,” Ashlyn says slowly. “But we aren't—those romantic feelings might not disappear completely for a while, but we’re friends. I wouldn't mess that up with her, just like I wouldn’t want to mess things up with anyone I'm seeing.”

Ali nods, unsure of the answer she was expecting or how to proceed. 

“We talked about you,” Ashlyn says. “I texted you from the Uber we took to the bar, and Alex asked about you, and I told Spencer I was seeing someone.”

“Oh.”

“I didn't say it was serious or anything, don't worry,” Ashlyn rushes to elaborate.

“I'm not worried.”

“I showed her pictures and told her how we met,” Ashlyn says. “She said of course it was Denise who caused it somehow. Which is so true. Denise is involved in everything. Hell, she was the one who told me to pick DC when I was being allocated.”

Ali smiles softly, and Ashlyn realizes she might be rambling.

“I'm sorry,” she says. “You wanted to talk.”

Ali leans across the counter to kiss Ashlyn. “I’d really like to be your girlfriend,” she says. “Not in four months when you get back and it's easy. I want to be your girlfriend now.”

“Whoa,” Ashlyn breathes. “That's… not where I thought you were going with this.”

Ali laughs, her cheeks turning pink. “I needed to make sure,” she says. “I watched you hug last night, then I saw the Instagram pictures and the comments, and I felt so irrationally jealous, and I knew I had no right to. But I want that right. I want you to be mine and for other girls not to be able to touch you. Not in a creepy way, just… I want to be your girlfriend,” she finishes. “If the offer is still on the table, anyway.”

“Of course it is,” Ashlyn replies, grinning. “So the only reason you want to be my girlfriend is because you're jealous of my ex? Noted.”

“No!” Ali insists, but Ashlyn is laughing. “Not the only reason.”

“Why else?” Ashlyn raises an eyebrow and Ali knows she set herself up for this.

“Because you're beautiful,” Ali says, kissing her lips. “And talented and kind and funny. You know who you are, which is the most attractive thing I've ever seen. And you're pretty good in bed.”

“I can't believe you remember, it's been so long,” Ashlyn murmurs suggestively, kissing Ali’s jaw, just underneath her ear.

“Maybe we can fix that,” Ali suggests, threading her fingers through Ashlyn’s. “You know, now that we’re like, officially official.”

Ashlyn stands up, lifting Ali so her legs wrap around her waist and carrying her up the stairs to Ashlyn’s bedroom.

“That was impressive,” Ali laughs, sitting up on her elbows on Ashlyn’s bed as Ashlyn crawls on top of her, kissing her neck.

“I'm an athlete,” Ashlyn smirks.

She spends the rest of the evening proving her athletic ability in a number of ways till the two of them are lying in a boneless heap in the center of her bed.

“When do you have to leave again?” Ali murmurs.

“Next week. Going to Boston.”

“No exes there?”

“No exes,” Ashlyn laughs, but then her face gets serious. “After that game is when Alex and I leave for National Team camp, though.”

“And Spencer will be there,” Ali says.

“She will,” Ashlyn confirms. “But everything I said before is true. We're friends, nothing more. Co-workers, even.”

“I know,” Ali says. “I understand. Where is this camp?”

“Good question,” Ashlyn surmises. “Um…” She reaches for her phone and scrolls through some emails. “Denver. Then Cleveland.”

“Why so far?” Ali pouts.

“Because they want to make me miserable,” Ashlyn jokes. “They must know how hot my girlfriend is and how torturous it'll be to be away from her.”

“At least you get to do fun things at work,” Ali says.

“Yeah, but when I'm not at training or in meetings, I have nothing but downtime. I'm going to get so bored. I might have to sext you at work.”

“I wouldn't hate that,” Ali murmurs, kissing Ashlyn on the lips.


	5. forcing laughter, faking smiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ali meets Ashlyn's family.

The second Ali gets into her car after a torturously long day (well, week), her phone rings, making her cringe. If it's work, she's not far enough to justify not coming back, and she hates lying, especially when she knows that whatever she missed will fall on one of her coworkers’ shoulders.

 

She breathes a sigh of relief when she sees it’s Ashlyn, her lips curving into a smile.

 

“Hey you,” she answers. “Your timing is impeccable.”

 

“Do you still want to come to my game tomorrow?” Ashlyn asks.

 

“Yeah, of course,” Ali says. “But I wouldn't mind seeing you tonight too if you're around. I can just come over and we can watch a movie and go to bed early.”

 

“Yeah, that's fine,” Ashlyn says, sounding distracted. “Listen, I just need to figure this out, but I'll be home around 8 so come over whenever.”

 

“Alright,” Ali says. She barely gets out her goodbye before the phone disconnects. “Miss you too,” she grumbles, putting her car into drive.

 

When Ali lets herself in with the key Ashlyn had made for her for the weekends she's away, Ashlyn doesn't seem to have calmed down in the least, pacing the kitchen as she talks on the phone.

 

“No, it's all taken care of,” Ashlyn says, exasperated. She looks up when Ali walks in and flashes her a quick smile. “I appreciate that, but—okay. Yeah. See you then. Love you too.” 

 

“Who was that?” Ali asks when Ashlyn hangs up.

 

“My brother,” Ashlyn says, walking across the kitchen to greet Ali with a kiss. “I missed these lips.”

 

“They missed you,” Ali replies. “Kind of sucky for work to get crazy during one of the few weeks you're actually around.”

 

“I know, so inconsiderate,” Ashlyn murmurs. “But you're here now.”

 

“And I'll be here all weekend if you want,” Ali says. “You know, with the game tomorrow and whatnot.”

 

“About that,” Ashlyn sighs.

 

Ali's face falls. “If you don't want me to—”

 

“No, I do!” Ashlyn insists. “It's just that my entire family wants to come, too. And all the tickets I can get are in the same section, so you'd be like… sitting with them.”

 

“Well that's okay,” Ali says. “With me, anyway. If you'd rather I didn't go, though, I understand.”

 

“It's just not exactly the way I anticipated you meeting my family. And my grandma is a little overprotective.”

 

“Do they know about me?”

 

“A little,” Ashlyn says. “They know I'm seeing someone. I just haven't seen them all that often lately, so they don't know very much.”

 

“Give me the rundown tonight,” Ali says. “A primer on everything I should know about your family. I promise I can handle some pretty crazy things. And I won't embarrass you.”

 

“You could never,” Ashlyn laughs, wrapping her arms around Ali’s shoulders and pressing her lips to Ali’s forehead. “You're an angel. Do you want a glass of wine? Because you'll probably need a few to get through this.”

 

~

 

Ali looks way more confident than Ashlyn feels when she leaves for her game, but Ali promises she’ll lock the door and turn off the lights and not ruin their relationship by making Ashlyn’s family hate her.

 

Ashlyn’s more concerned that it'll happen the other way around, but she nods and kisses Ali goodbye anyway.

 

As soon as the door closes behind Ashlyn, Ali’s cool demeanor falls, and she scurries around the house trying to put together the perfect outfit that says “cool girl who goes to her girlfriend’s soccer games but is also classy and never has more than one beer there.” (Usually she has at least three.)

 

She lands on a pair of white skinny jeans (as there are only so many more chances for her to wear them before Labor Day) and a purple tank top that she hopes is close enough to their jersey colors that she won't make a fool of herself. She goes back and forth between hairstyles before deciding to leave it down and bring two hair bands for when she inevitably has to throw it into a bun.

 

Her anxiety about being late leads her to get there embarrassingly early, well before the gates even open, which results in her being the only person in the friends and family section until after the teams are already warming up.

 

“Ali!”

 

She spins around to see Jamie and lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” she says, embracing him.

 

“She told me,” he laughs. “Don't worry. I can't imagine anyone not loving you.”

 

Ali thinks back to high school and college and even the past week at work and cringes. “I can.”

 

“Ashlyn adores you, so they will too,” he promises.

 

She doesn't have much longer to wait to see if he's telling the truth, because two minutes later three people she recognizes from Ashlyn’s photos are making their way down her row.

 

Ali smiles widely, standing to greet the youngest one, Ashlyn’s brother. “You must be Chris,” she says, reaching out to shake his hand. “I'm Ali.”

 

“Do you know Ashlyn?” he asks. Ali's face falls instantly. “I'm joking,” he says, grinning and pulling her into a hug instead. “She's told me a lot about you. It’s so nice to finally meet the famous Ali Krieger.”

 

“So that's where she gets her terrible sense of humor,” Ali says.

 

She somehow ends up in the seat between Ashlyn’s grandma Eunice (“just call me Grandma, sugar”) and Chris, with Ashlyn’s dad on the other side of Grandma and Jamie on the other side of Chris.

 

Ashlyn waves to them when she jogs back to the locker room, and Ali must have a goofy look on her face because Chris nudges her and teases her to “snap out of it.”

 

Ali makes small talk with Eunice while they wait, for the game to start, but once Ali is completely wrapped up in the game is when the questions get a little more real.

 

“So how did you meet Ashlyn?” Eunice asks. “At a game?”

 

“Oh, no,” Ali laughs. “I'm not exactly a soccer fan. I mean, I am! When Ashlyn’s playing. Just not… we met at a play. A musical. We sat next to each other and hit it off.” She figures it's best not to explain the circumstances.

 

“She's into the artistic type,” Eunice says knowingly.

 

Ali nods, smiling uneasily. Is Spencer artistic? Ashlyn didn't mention it.

 

“It's good you don't follow soccer,” she continues. “I've lost track of the teammates she's dated. Well, if you can even call it dating. And the fans! But I'm sure you know that.”

 

Ali forces a laugh. Ashlyn prepared her for her grandmother trying to scare girls away because nobody is good enough for her granddaughter, but she wasn't quite ready for this.

 

“She's had her heart broken a few times, my Ashlyn,” Eunice says. “But you wouldn't add to that, would you?”

 

“Grandma!” Chris chastises.

 

“I certainly don't plan on it,” Ali assures her, face turning red.

 

“Mrs. Harris,” Jamie says, coming to Ali’s rescue. “Will you be making your famous potato salad for Ashlyn’s Fourth of July party this year? I haven't stopped thinking about it since last year.”

 

Eunice beams, leaning in toward him. “Just for you, I will,” she promises.

 

Ali mouths a quick “thank you” to Jamie, who winks back before continuing his conversation with the older woman.

 

The game ends with a clean sheet for Ashlyn, who beams as she makes her way around the stadium, signing autographs and taking selfies with fans before finally getting to her family. When she finally gets to Ali, she raises her eyebrows in amusement and grins. “So?”

  
Ali leans down for a hug. “You owe me so big,” she whispers.


End file.
